


The North Has Fallen

by lazyrobokitty



Category: The Valley Of Artemis
Genre: Backstory, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2016-06-20
Packaged: 2018-07-14 07:50:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7161215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazyrobokitty/pseuds/lazyrobokitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Backstory for my character Montgomery in The Valley Of Artemis group on DeviantArt. Ratings and warnings will change in chapter 2.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Rise

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! If you're reading this and want to know more about the awesome lore this is based on, please head over to The Valley of Artemis group on DeviantArt (link below). The lore, the art, the community are all amazing, go show them love. :3
> 
> The Valley of Artemis Group -- http://thevalleyofartemis.deviantart.com/  
> Montgomery's Reference -- http://mechafeline.deviantart.com/art/TVoA-Montgomery-Tribe-Kineta-Application-609768865
> 
> Without further ado, please enjoy the first chapter of Monty's backstory!

Many miles to the north of Artemis Valley and unaware of the devastation the Tribes were recovering from lay the four snow-capped mountain peaks that made up The Arctic Kingdom. The sun was beginning to set behind the western facing mountain, bathing the entire territory in unnatural silence as its citizens and prey alike reinforced their homes and hid away from the approaching darkness. Only a greying-tortishell she-cat dared to break the stillness, padding carefully out of a cave high on the southernmost mountain with her tail twitching as she stretched then settled down to wash defiantly in the dying light.

Reyna drew a paw slowly over her ear as she basked in the weak summer sun from her ledge. From here she could see the entire Kingdom and for a moment she let the tranquillity of her home soothe the turmoil in her mind. The northern Royal Mountain loomed opposite, as strong and imposing a presence as it ever had been. From it tumbled the Polar Falls, dripping like a shining, pearlescent curtain into the Great Lake below; an endless cycle of water just like the endless circle of life, unchanging and forever unbroken. For a moment she could almost make herself believe that nothing had ever changed, that all was peaceful and well…

But it could never last. She could almost feel the absence of the Royal Family statues that had once lined the path up the Royal Mountain to its cavernous palace. Even if she couldn’t make out any of the details from this distance, she like every other cat in the Kingdom knew those beautiful works of art had been destroyed and were now left as crumbling reminders of what used to be.

Below her, the red glow of sunset slid steadily across the surface of the Great Lake like a poison. Her ears flattened and fur bristled with horror despite herself as the memories of that awful, _awful_ day…

Shaking her head furiously she forced the images away. Dwelling did nothing, it would not bring their King and his family back to them. They **_must_** live on.

The scrambling of tiny paws interrupted her dark thoughts. She turned to see her three grandchildren clambering onto her ledge, eyes sparkling with excitement. She couldn’t help but purr at the sight of them, her spirits instantly lifted. The largest, Pigmy, was the first to barrel over to her, “Grandma! Grandma! Momma says we can have a story before bed, can we? Can we _please_?” An indignant squeak followed his question before Reyna could answer.

“I wanted to ask!” Fern’s black fur stood on end angrily as she stormed over to her grandmother and brother, her little sister padding quietly behind her, “You always get to do everything Pigmy, it was _my_ turn!”

“Well then you shouldn’t be such a prissy slow-slug! If you didn’t need to spend ages judging every jump you would’ve been here first. Even Shyla was faster than you, and she’s tiny!” he stuck his tongue out at his sister as if that settled it before turning his back on her.

“Kittens, kittens,” Reyna mewed softly, patting the ledge next to her with her tail to invite them to join her, “You must be nicer to each other. Pigmy your sister is not prissy, she’s careful and you should be too. The ledges this high up can be very dangerous.” Fern puffed herself up triumphantly as she settled down next to her brother. Shyla quietly settled between Reyna’s front paws without saying anything, just staring at her grandmother with large eyes.

“And Fern,” the black she-cat deflated a little when she continued, “It doesn’t matter who asks, you’ll all get to hear a story no matter what.” Fern looked at her paws, clearly ashamed. Her brother was less phased, clearly more eager for his story.

“Can we have a spooky story?” he mewed unabashed, “A really spooky one!” She could feel Shyla pressing into her chest, trembling at the very idea. Reyna’s whiskers twitched despite herself, giving the frightful little she-cat a reassuring lick on the ear.

“No! I wanna hear about Arctic,” Reyna’s insides went cold at her granddaughter’s words, but Fern seemed unaware of her grandmother’s sudden fear, “We heard his name from one of the village guards, but no one will tell us about him.”

“I…kittens I…” she glanced at the slowly sinking sun, forcing her fur to lie flat. Showing fear wouldn’t help here. Kittens were curious; kittens asked questions…kittens could so very easily be killed. She felt bile rise in her throat at the very idea of anything happening to these three precious bundles.

“Okay, that would be pretty cool,” Pigmy agreed before turning expectantly to Reyna, “Do you know about him Grandma? Can you tell us?”

Of course she did. Every cat in the mountain range knew of Arctic, but it was forbidden to speak of him and breaking that law was punishable by a very, very painful death. She glanced at the sun. It was still slinking slowly behind the west mountain, there were still a good few hours of sunlight left…did she dare risk it?

On the one paw, it would put these kits in horrible danger, King Salem wouldn’t hesitate to make an example of these curious kits if he thought they were too free-thinking…but if she did tell them…they were young, brave, and soon it would be their turn to shape the world. How could they make it better if they didn’t even know their own heritage? Besides these guards had apparently been talking about the God loud enough for kits to hear about it and suffered no punishment.

She narrowed her eyes. Yes, she had to risk it. And then ensure these little ones were guarded with all the strength of her village. “Yes I do, but you must promise me never, ever to speak of it. Not to anyone.”

“Not even to mother?” Shyla squeaked, eyes widening even further.

“Not even to her. Never. Do you promise?” she mewed seriously, looking at all three of them in turn. Slowly, they all nodded and with a soft sigh, she wrapped her tail around the two older kits.

“Well then, let me see what I can remember.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

The story begins many, many seasons before our ancestors even knew of these mountains. Our ancestors lived beneath isolated rocky plain many thousands of paw prints north of here called Sol Plateau. They believed in and were protected by no Gods as we know them today, instead they believed that all life came from the Sun and worshipped it much like we would our Gods today. During the summer they would hunt and farm above ground and rejoice in the life and beauty of their home, giving thanks to the Sun for their food, safety and kits. During the winter, they hid underground from the blistering cold above, using their stores of food from their summer harvests until the Sun returned to warm the earth once more.

One day two ferocious wyverns came to their land. My father told me that they were as huge and undefeatable as the mountains and they sought to claim the land for their own. They were a newly mated pair and they wanted a home for their new clan, far from the competition in the south. The King at the time was called Shale of the Dawn. He was wise for his age and charismatic, but not very strong. Nevertheless he and his warriors tried to fight away the wyverns, but they lost badly, good cats died and all were forced to flee their home before the wyverns could wipe them all out.

Every cat from the largest warrior to the smallest kit was terrified, barely stopping to rest as they fled away from their snowy home to the south. They travelled for moons, following the warmth of the Sun in the hopes their protector would lead them to a safe new home. On their journey they found forests inhabited by fierce Tribe cats and farms protected by Clan cats, but nowhere they could call their own. But even when all hope seemed lost Shale never gave up and his never ending courage gave the rest the energy to carry on, even with the dark moons of winter drawing in.

Four moons after they’d fled their home they arrived at the base of the northern mountain.  Shale brought the family to a halt when they reached them, wondering how they could possibly get elders and kits to cross these giant structures safely when all they’d know is flat land their whole lives. He decided that they would take shelter in one of the lower caves until he and his royal council could come up with a plan – this cave is what we know now as the Tunnels of Peace, yes indeed Fern, the very tunnels where we allow weary travellers to rest without fear.

It was here they met a small group of traveling cats. They shared prey together and passed on the story of the great God of the Mountains. A lonely God, turned bitter by the icy chills of his home that took the form of a stone coloured ram – that precious ones, was Arctic. It was said that many families of many different species had tried to make their home in the harsh and unforgiving mountains; and Arctic, powerless to change their fates, was forced to watch each of his newly accepted children die within weeks. His broken heart turned to ice and he began to drive out any settlers to protect himself from ever having to feel that pain again, turning the mountain territories into an icy wasteland.

Inspired by the traveller’s story, Shale collected his most trusted cats and left them in charge of the family while he ventured into this new territory alone.

*~*~*~*~*

The grey and white mottled tom scented the air as he emerged from the cave. The snow blocked out any scent but he was fairly certain that the weather would keep any predators away, at least for now.

Fluffing out his thick fur against the freezing chill he forced himself on, padding quietly through the forest. His senses prickled with unease the further he prowled into the unwelcoming land, and he found himself looking around warily despite his earlier determination. The entire place felt lifeless, just as Barnabos and his travelling cats had described. Could his family actually settle and thrive in a place like this?

Shaking his head, he pressed his ears back against his head. Not with that attitude they wouldn’t! He had to stay positive. Surely the God so powerful and wise he could hold dominion over such a wild territory would see how badly they needed this territory. He must have faith.

He pushed through the snow and brittle ferns until he reached a large frozen lake in the centre of the forest. His eyes widened with awe at the size of it. The entirety of their old home could’ve fit inside it with ease! He padded forward slowly, staring reverently at it. After only a small pause, he gently lowered one of his front paws onto the icy surface curiously. To his surprise it wasn’t nearly as cold as he’d imagined. _Perhaps my paws are already so cold I simply can’t tell anymore_ , he thought.

_Turn back…_

The tom looked around, his fur on end. Had he really heard that? “Is anyone there? Hello?” he called into the empty whiteness, not sure if he wanted the voice to be real or not. It had been little more than a faint whisper, but it was so full of venom that the words felt as though someone was clawing his heart.

_Go away…_

“My name is Shale of the Dawn, please show yourself. I don’t mean you any harm,” Okay so the creepy voice was definitely real, unless the cold was somehow making him hallucinate. If it was, it didn’t stop there.

From beneath his paws the lake started to shimmer a luminescent blue, scattering beams of silver-blue light across the surface of the ice. Snow whipped past his face, swirling in front of him until the gigantic form of a stone and ice coloured ram appeared before him, piercing dark eyes glaring at him from above.

“Shale of the Dawn, you are trespassing on my lands. Leave this place at once,” his voice was commanding, but his eyes…those beautiful dark blue eyes were full of the deepest sorrow Shale had ever seen. Rather than feeling threatened, instantly he felt a rather irrational rush of emotions screaming at him to protect this creature, this unknown cold God.

“Err-I erm…h-hello!” he fumbled for words, trying to force his mind to catch up with the situation, “Hello! You must be Arctic right? The God of the Mountains? I came here to look for you, I wanted to talk with you.”

“Talk?” the God flinched slightly, ears folding back, “Why would a mortal wish to talk with me? I have nothing to give you, cat.”

“Yes, actually you do! I’ve heard that you’re well…you’re not welcoming any guests, let’s say that,” Shale forced himself to sit wrapping his tail politely around his paws, “But my family needs a home, desperately. We were driven from our old territory by wyverns and we’ve travelled many thousands of pawsteps to get here. On their behalf, ple-”

“Speak not another word,” the God snarled, the sadness in his eyes replaced with rage, “You know of my suffering and yet you come here to torment me further. Tell me, cat of the dawn, how you can dare to be so bold?”

Shale paused. He wasn’t frightened despite Arctic’s anger. Any rational cat would be. A rational cat would turn tail and run. Even if he hadn’t been a God this giant creature could break his back with a stomp of one hoof, or maul him with those giant pointed horns before he could get a single swipe in. But somehow he knew Arctic wouldn’t hurt him. He didn’t know how he knew it, but he felt certain enough to continue.

“My family’s suffering makes me bold,” he bowed slightly, keeping his eyes respectfully on that of Arctic’s, “If you don’t want us here I will take them away, I would never disrespect you my friend. Command us to leave again, and I swear on my honour as King we will be gone once the sun rises. But I must beg you to please, please give us a chance to prove ourselves. We are hardy, honest, hardworking cats and we would be honoured to live in your domain, by your laws, to help this land prosper.”

This time it was Arctic who kept silent, and Shale could see him thinking over what he’d just said…oh he could only pray he’d done enough!

“Very well. I will give you a chance,” Arctic broke the silence a few moments later, “But this challenge is for you and you alone. You say you are a King? I say prove you worth, and in doing so, prove the worth of those who choose to follow you.”

Shale bowed lower, unable to help the purr of delight that escaped him, “Thank you, Arctic. I will face all and any challenges you see fit. I hope that I will prove a worthy fri-heh, I mean f-follower.”

“You will remain in this territory alone for a night. Simple though the challenge may sound, I will not make this easy for you. You must show me you have the skills to survive the harshest weather this territory has to offer.” Arctic continued as though he hadn’t heard Shale’s fumble, and he couldn’t help but be relieved for it, “Do you accept?”

“I do,” he mewed, rising to his paws once more.

“Then go,” Arctic started to turn away, the sorrow flooding back into his eyes as he spoke, “And may whichever Gods you follow be with you.”

*~*~*~*~*

Shale purred with satisfaction at his haul at he dragged the last of it up to the cave he’d chosen. Despite the disturbing lack of prey in this place he’d managed to catch two mice, a skinny, bedraggled looking hare and a young deer. More than he could ever need to eat in one night, but perfect for what he had planned.

With one final heave of effort he finally pulled the deer out of the snow and into his sleeping place. Earlier he’d managed to dig up enough snow-soaked moss for bedding, which he’d left in a neat bundle in the corner of the cave. Poking it with his paw as he passed, he was unsurprised to find it was still damp.

“You cannot sleep on that, you’ll make yourself ill foolish cat,” a voice sneered from behind him. Shale couldn’t help but twitch his whiskers in amusement. He hadn’t made himself visible but he’d be able to feel the God following him throughout his explorations and hunts. At first he thought he might have been imagining it, but once he’d started digging through the snow Arctic had been seemingly unable to hold the agitated comments back.

“ _You realize you’re soaking wet now_.”

“ _Are you completely stupid cat, a hare that scrawny wouldn’t feed a kitten_.”

“ _Where exactly do you plan to sleep now you’ve splatted the walls of this perfectly good cave with snow_?”

“I know,” he mewed softly, not looking around as he dropped the deer next to the rest of his food, “I’d freeze to death long before that though, wet fur is a killer in this weather. Still,” he continued cheerily, “I have everything figured out so there’s no need to worry.” He heard a snort of disbelief behind him. Ignoring it, he padded over to the other side of the cave. Along with the moss, he’d also uncovered plenty dry sticks in one of the lower caves and he’d taken great care to keep them that way as he carried them across to his shelter.

Organising them carefully into a pile in the centre of the cave, he then reached for the two of the stones he’d picked off the cave floor. They weren’t perfect but they should do, he hoped. Holding one in each paw, he struck the smaller against the larger. At first it did nothing but make a horrible scraping sound that made Shale’s fur stand on end, but after a few moments sparks leapt onto the stick pile and he could see the tell-tale amber glow of fire starting at the base.

As he waited for the flame to take hold he pulled his moss closer to the growing warmth. With luck by the time he was ready to sleep tonight it would all be at least relatively dry and good enough to use as temporary bedding. Until then though he still had plenty left to do.

“May the light send you the thanks of the Hunter,” the traditional prayer felt comforting to say, it made the strange cave seem more familiar somehow as though the Sun’s protective warmth was still with him.

All was quiet for a while as he ate his meal, only to be interrupted by Arctic once more. This time, however, his voice was not so disdainful, “What does that mean? Do you pray to another God cat?”

“Where I come from we believe that the Sun gives us life. I don’t know if I’d call it a God as such though - I’ve certainly never heard of anyone talking to the Sun before that’s for sure,” he mewed thoughtfully once he’d finished, swiping his tongue over his lips, “But I think whatever you believe it’s important to give thanks prey. My grandfather once told me that if you send thanks to a prey’s spirit for the life it’s given, when it’s reborn it will be able to prosper and therefore so will we.” He was answered with silence and suddenly, for the first time since he’d arrived, he felt uncomfortable, “Did…Did I offend you? I didn’t think about…well I’m in your territory and I was technically giving thanks to another and-”

“No,” Arctic’s voice cut him off mid-apologetic ramble, “I’m not offended. I thank you for sharing your views and ritual with me, not many would have the courage to do so.”

Shale visibly relaxed, his eyes softening as he gazed around, “Oh good. I’m glad.” He paused for a moment, “Hey listen, I need to work on this deer for a bit but…well its really boring work. I’d…I’d love to talk with you if you want? You’re welcome to come and get warm by the fire too; you must get cold up here.”

“I do not feel the cold,” Arctic informed him, slowly materialising in front of him, “But what is it you wish to talk about?”

Shale shrugged, getting up to drag the deer carcass closer to the fire so he could warm himself as he worked, “Whatever you want. You can ask me questions if you want, or maybe you have stories from other lands you’d like to tell. Anything.” He half turned to smile at the ram, his eyes warm, “It’s just nice to have company while you work, you know?”

He watched as Arctic slowly sat opposite him, clearly uncertain but willing, “I can’t think of a reason why not. Why don’t you begin, I would enjoy hearing more about your old home.” Shale let out a purr, turning back to the deer carcass with unsheathed claws. Within moments he was deep into a description of their old lands, unaware of the way the old God was staring at him as he worked.

*~*~*~*~*

“He jumped? Just like that?!” Shale exclaimed, staring at the stone-coloured ram with wide eyes. Arctic nodded, smiling despite himself at the giggling that followed, “What tales cats will believe these days! Cat birds, what nonsense.”

“I too have heard rumours of these cats,” he rumbled thoughtfully, flicking an ear as Shale went back to work, “It’s said they live in a valley not far from here and were given these powers by a God, but I’ve never heard this God’s name so I couldn’t tell you if it’s true.”

“Wait- you guys can actually do stuff like that?”

“Of course, it takes a God of tremendous power so not all Gods can, but it has been done before and I have no doubt it will be done again,” the fact that this intelligent tom seemed to know so little of the Gods still surprised him. He’d said his family had been isolated but to truly know so little…had they’re really been no God for them back in their old lands, or had they just never been discovered? He felt a prick of pain in his heart at the very idea of it. It would hurt any God to have their lands taken over by any creatures that didn’t believe in them, it would make them… _irrelevant_.

“That’s…that’s pretty amazing,” Shale’s voice was filled with awe, but he didn’t look up again. After hours of work it seemed he was finally finished as the deer’s pelt came free of its carcass in one final, clean tear, “Ha! There we go, and just in time too.” Gathering up the pelt he dragged it over to the entrance of the cave. The sky was much darker now and though the sun wasn’t visible Arctic knew it would only be another hour or so before it set, plunging temperatures even further below freezing.

“What exactly are you intending to do with that?” he asked, eyes narrowing. He’d originally thought Shale was going to use it as extra bedding to help keep himself warm but that clearly wasn’t the case.

“Well the fire is good, it’s certainly made this cave warmer, but once the sun sets and the weather gets colder it won’t be enough to keep the chill away, so,” he paused, studying the wall by the cave entrance, “I need to keep the cold out some other way. We used to use more pelts than this back home but it’s better than nothing.”

Arctic wasn’t entirely sure that would work but he didn’t say so. He just watched silently as Shale proceeded to climb the walls beside the cave entrance with care, jamming the pelt securely into cracks and keeping it steady with rocks. Rudimentary perhaps, but even he could feel the temperature rise once the grey and white tom had secured the pelt in place.

“I assume you are going to sleep now?” he asked softly, ignoring the stab of regret he felt at the very idea. He had no business enjoying this cat’s company as much as he did, and the quicker he was asleep and Arctic was away from him the better. He could _not_ allow himself to get attached.

“Oh no, I still have to skin the hare,” Shale stretched before settling back down next to the fire, “I’m not keeping you from anything, am I?”

“No,” his mouth answered him before his mind could form a rebuttal. He wasn’t attached. He _wasn’t_ and he’d make sure it stayed that way. It’d been so many moons since he’d had an actual conversation with anyone; surely there was nothing wrong with wanting to talk a little more. It didn’t mean a thing.

But even as he let his own self-assurances soothe him, he knew in his heart it was a lie, “Oh good. Now you have to tell me what happened after Cedar tried to fly, did he survive?” Shale sounded relieved. _He_ clearly felt no shame in enjoying Arctic’s company.

“He did, but he wouldn’t live in the mountains after that. It turns out the fall made him rather afraid of heights,” Arctic explained dryly, his smile returning when Shale’s whiskers twitched with amusement.

“As any cat with a lick of common sense would be,” he mewed as he pulled the hare close and set to work, “At least those feather brains would’ve learnt their lesson about trying to fly.”

“Oh you think so?” he couldn’t help the teasing glint that entered his eyes, his smile broadening as Shale’s expression dropped into one of pure shock.

“No…they _didn’t_.”

“Oh they did. Not two days later another young tom threw himself from the same ledge with the same result,” he shook his head, trying not to laugh at the sound that came from his companion. It was certainly undignified; something between a snort of amusement and a hiss of disbelief, but the tom didn’t seem bothered by it.

“H-heh, I can’t…how…” he choked on his words, shoulders shaking with laughter, “I shouldn’t laugh, it’s awful but…” It was quite a while before Shale was able to control himself after that. They talked about a variety of things will the grey and white tom worked. The mischief Shale had gotten up to as a kit, the stories his mother had told him, how Arctic had saved a family of kittens from drowning in the lake in his younger years. By the time he’d finally finished skinning the hare the sun had set and despite Shale’s efforts the cold still seeped through the entrance.

“I may as well get some rest,” Shale yawned as he finished tucking the pelt tidily into his now dry moss nest, “Thank you for talking with me, Arctic, you’re a good friend.” His summer green eyes shone in the dim light and Arctic’s voice caught in his throat.

“I…I’m flattered that you think so. Sleep well, Shale.” Shale gave him a soft mew of goodnight as he curled up in his nest but said no more.

Arctic waited until the tom had slipped into a peaceful sleep before moving again. Slowly he rose to his hooves, giving the grey and white cat a last look before walking out of the cave into the crisp air. It was deathly cold compared to the welcoming warmth of the Shale’s cave but he preferred the chill. Sitting down once more he looked up to the sky. It was still clouded over, the thick grey clouds threatening to unleash another snowstorm any moment.

 _Not tonight_ , he thought, glancing back at the cave for a moment. His eyes shone a bright white for a moment and slowly the dark clouds broke away, allowing the moonlight to shine through.

What was he doing? Had he not learnt his lesson about trusting mortals? All they did was worm their way into your heart then die. He was better off without any of them. Especially ones that were kind and funny and-

Growling low he shook his head. No _no **no**_! He was a God. Shale was mortal. That was it. There was no more. There couldn’t be. There _couldn’t_ be.

But the fresh pain he felt at the thought of sending the tom away proved that there was. The sensible thing to do would be to wait until morning, then tell Shale to take his family elsewhere, somewhere safe and warm far away from here. It didn’t matter though. It might’ve been the right choice, but he wouldn’t do it. He was far too selfish.

 _One night, one night is all it takes. Heh. You’ve become desperate you old goat_ , he smiled to himself and the snow around his hooves slowly melted away, as though touched by the summer sun. Those bright summer eyes had finally thawed the ice in his heart, and that was worth the pain of loneliness that came with it.

*~*~*~*~*

“And the next morning Arctic welcomed our family into his mountains. As a show of friendship and thanks he blessed Shale with a beautiful crown of ice blue flowers and thorns and renamed him Shale the Reborn, crown king of the Mountains. The end.” by the time Reyna finished her story the sun had almost completely disappeared from view. Despite her earlier confidence the sight made her nervous. She was eager to get the kits safely inside out of harm’s way before the darkness completely took hold.

“No! I wanna know what happened next!” Fern cried, “What happened to Shale? And to Arctic? We don’t hear about him now, where did he go?”

“That is a story for another day, dear ones,” she mewed softly, giving the yawning Shyla a gentle lick, “For now rest easy know that Shale lived a full and happy life here in the Mountains. He had five kits, the eldest of which became king after he died.”

“That was a good story; thank you Grandma,” Shyla mewed quietly, “I’m glad it had a happy ending.”

“Promise you’ll tell us more tomorrow night?” Fern demanded as her brother yawn and stretched beside her, “Pleeeassee?”

“Of course, now come along,” she heaved herself to her paws, “We must get you all to bed, your mother must be wondering what’s become of you.” To her relief the three kits followed her without complaint, seemingly soothed by the promise of another story tomorrow. She wished she could feel so easily soothed. As much as she wanted to believe she’d done that right thing, now she’d done it she couldn’t help but worry about the consequences. She could only pray that whatever they were, these three little ones would be left out of it.


	2. The Fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains gorey/violent things. You have been warned!

Purring with amusement, Reyna watched as her daughter herded the three excited kittens back into their home. “See you in the morning Grandma!” Fern mewed before running inside with her siblings. They were lucky, she reflected, not to know or understand everything just yet. Could she truly go through with her promise and ruin that beautiful innocence tomorrow?

Her daughter was no so lucky. “I’m so sorry they disturbed you, mother,” Fiona fretted, her tabby and white fur on end with worry, “Especially since-”

“It’s alright Fiona,” she longed to leap over there and comfort her daughter, but with curfew looming so close she didn’t dare, “Go and get those kittens into their nest, everything’s fine.”

“Mother please…” the younger she-cat lowered her voice, turning to look around the large cavern to check no one was listening, “Everything is not-”

“Hush,” Reyna’s voice was soft but stern as she cut her over. The only other cat out of bed now was Caracal; the large tom ran around extinguishing the lights as though a wyrm was nipping at his tail so it was unlikely he was listening to closely to their conversation. You could never be too careful though, “We’ll talk more in the morning. Sleep well.” Without leaving pause for argument, the old tortishell turned and padded back into her own home.

Being the elder of this mountain meant she had the best living quarters, a luxury she would’ve gladly given away if it meant she could have someone here with her. Tonight though, she couldn’t focus on her usual loneliness. Sharing Arctic and Shale’s story had resurfaced more recent and troubling memories.

Padding over to her nest, she slowly circled once then laid down, resting her head on her right paw. On the wall opposite was her vast jewellery collection from her youth. Though they all seemed plain in the dim light of her home, the ice blue crystals from one of them still shone brightly, brining those memories into sharper focus.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Angus didn’t dare move a muscle. Only a few meters away was his prey; the first stag of the spring. It could feed his whole family and their staff for days, but more importantly it would give his mate the strength she needed to care for their new-born kits.

He had to stifle a purr at the thought of their youngest litter. Three healthy kittens born in the Jewel Cove at the start of the spring only three days before. After Jackal’s troubled birth and the loss of his siblings they’d been desperate for a sign of good fortune and even the most pessimistic of cats in the western mountain had been forced to admit that these kits were as good a sign as any cat could hope for.

“ _Born at the start of spring, that’s always a good sign_ ,” Snowfall, the Royal Mountain’s resident seer, had been so excited she’d been shivering from nose to tail tip as she spoke, “ _And bein’ born surrounded by the family riches, I’d bet my left paw they’re going to have a very prosperous future, my King. You must share this wonderful news with the other villages._ ”

And he’d done so. As soon as he knew Lotus and their kits were safe he’d taken his best friend, Flynn, on a round trip of The Arctic Kingdom to spread the good news. From what he’d been told the southern mountain village was still celebrating and feasting even now. As much as he longed to join them he still had duties to attend to.

Suddenly the stags ear twitched and it looked around, eyes wide with alarm. One wrong move and it would shoot off out of sight. He had to move now.

Bunching his muscles tight, he took one last breath before he leapt onto the stag’s back, sinking his teeth into the back of its neck. It let out a bellow of pain, trying to buck him off wildly. Not a chance! Wiggling his haunches, he managed to get his claws into the fleshy part of its throat. Within seconds it was down, and with one final blow, the stag lay still.

“May Arctic send ya the thanks of the Hunter,” he murmured softly, pressing his muzzle to its side.

“And the thanks of his family,” a gentle purr from behind him interrupted his thoughts. “That was a good catch, Angus.”

“Thanks,” he mewed, licking the she-cat’s shoulder affectionately when she padded over to stand next to him, “Has Flynn finally managed to steal our kits?”

“You would think they were his,” she sounded as exasperated as she looked. She was much smaller than he was, and her white and brown fur still carried the scent of southern summers despite having lived in the mountains for moons, “That tom hasn’t stopped mooning over the little ones since they were born.” Angus couldn’t help but laugh.

“Ya’noe how much this litter means to him, ta everyone,” he mewed softly, “Did’ya hear Snowfall’s verdict? I still can’t tell ya who was happier to hear a good omen, her, Flynn or Jackal, bless his heart.”

“You northern cats spend more time and effort worrying about the signs and words of a God than you do actually doing anything about them,” she rolled her mismatched eyes but her voice was affectionate, “No wonder all the southerners think you have bees in your brain.”

“But tha’s why we keep you judgemental southern types around, to do all the manual labour for us,” he laughed and ducked as she swiped at his ears.

“I may be tired but I can still bite you, your Majesty!” she growled playfully, her mismatched eyes shining with delight.

“Aye, ya think so do ya, my Queen?” he teased, shoving her carefully with his shoulder, “I’d be thinking ya better come get me then!” Before he had a chance to make another move, the little she-cat bowled him over, pinning him under her with a hiss of satisfaction.

“I would, but you enjoy it too much,” she giggled when he leaned up to give her cheek and affectionate lick. They stayed like that for a few moments, simply enjoying each other’s presence, grey fur blending with white.

“C’mon, let’s get this home before Flynn starts trying to feed the kittens himself,” they moved slowly, reluctant for a moment to return to their responsibilities.

“Let’s,” Lotus agreed, moving to the other side of the carcass so she could help him haul it up the mountain, “Just try and keep up, your Majesty.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

“Father! Mother, there ya are!” Angus looked up to see Jackal stumbling down the path towards his parents. He had several rolls of parchment tied to his back, star-maps he could only assume – Jackal’s favourite subject, “I’m goin’ down to the Great Lake to set up my stuff. We’re supposed to have a clear night tonight.”

“Have you eaten yet?” Lotus dropped the stag, leaving it in favour of her son, “I don’t want you forgetting again, you’re already too thin as it is.”

“Leave the boy be, Lotus,” Angus twitched his whiskers, dropping the stag too, “Jackal is more than capable of looking afta himself.” His heart swelled with affection as he watched the lithe black tom puff his chest out with pride.

“Father’s right, I promise I’ll catch something if I get hungry, don’t worry mother,” he gave her white shoulder a lick as he passed, “And I’ll tell you all about the stars when I get home in the morning.”

“Okay,” she mewed, but her eyes reflected her concern, “Make sure you remember to give thanks to Arctic before you start disturbing the area around the Lake. And if there’s any sign of bad weather come straight back home.”

“I will, I will,” he mewed hastily, clearly eager to be going. He brushed his father’s pelt with his tail as he hurried back, “G’bye!”

“And don’t talk to any strangers!” she called after him, both of them watching as he followed the trail down the mountain until he disappeared from view.

Angus didn’t blame his mate for being so worried. Jackal was the sole survivor of a litter of six. They’d been born while Lotus had been exploring deep into the mountains damp, cold tunnels and the chill had taken three before anyone had been able to find her. The other two had died later from a nasty fever. Lotus had been beside herself with grief, and the entire Kingdom had fretted over what this kind of terrible omen could mean.

“ _Northern cats dying of cold, there is no worse a sign! Arctic himself had to have taken these kits_ ,” the elder of the Eastern village had cried, filling the hearts of her cats with terror at the idea their God had turned on them.

“ _No, the survivor is the worst of all_ ,” her seer had growled, his fur on end, “ _His black fur is a death omen if I ever saw one_!” More cries had risen from the mountain, confused and terrified for the future.

His position was almost the worst of all. These kittens had been his own precious children, three he’d found dead and the other two he’d been as helpless to save. He’d wanted nothing more than to lock these judgemental, frightened cats away to protect their last kitten. His black fur meant nothing to him, he was his son, and he’d have torn the mountains from the ground to protect him.

But he had to be more than a father. He was a King. He’d left Lotus and Jackal with their other children and left to visit Arctic. It wasn’t easy. Only the first King, Shale the Reborn, had been able to visit the great God at will, the rest of his family needed to sleep beneath the Polar Falls and hope that Arctic would speak with them. Out of all his littermates he’d always had the weakest connection to their God and he’d been dreading being turned away.

But he hadn’t. Arctic had shared his dreams and promised there was no bad omen, only bad luck. He’d shared the news with the rest of the Kingdom but he knew it’d been many moons before they’d truly believed him.

“Angus,” Lotus’ mew interrupted his thoughts, “Angus do you think…should we send Blizzard or Sera to watch over him?”

“Blizzard is in charge of protecting the kits,” Angus shook his head, “And Sera would only cause an argument. No let him be, he’ll be fine by the Lake. Arctic will be watching over him.”

“I wish I shared your confidence,” her tail drooped slightly, “But I’d rather have trustworthy claws protecting my son than a God I’ve never met.”

“I know,” he nuzzled her cheek gently, “I know how hard this is for you, and believe me I appreciate how hard you try to fit in with all our silly northern ways.” He purred quietly when he felt her press back against him, “Instead of trusting Arctic, trust _me_. I would never let our son go somewhere if I didn’t think he’d be safe.”

“I do trust you, Angus, and I know you’re right,” her eyes met his, as warm as the sun, “Thank you for understanding.”

“Anything for you, my summer sun,” he felt her tail rest on his stumpy one as he breathed in her sweet scent, half debating whether they he should have one of the other cats in the mountain bring the stag up for them…some time alone did seem rather inviting.

He was drawn out of his mental debate when he spotted the shape of a dark cat limping up the mountain towards them. He narrowed his eyes slightly. It looked a little like Jackal, but why would he be coming home so quickly?

Drawing away slightly, he pointed the cat out to his mate with his ears. She let out a gasp and hurried towards it without waiting for him. “Lotus, wait!” he hissed, running after her, but she ignored him.

As they got closer he realized, as he’d half expected, that this was not Jackal. He was a tom, judging by his scent, but his far was a much darker shade of black. He was extremely thin and heavily scarred. He wore a dirty brown coat that looked like it was made out of prey pelts, but none of that is what sent the strongest jolt of disquiet he’d ever felt in his life down his spine. This stranger only had one eye, where the other should have been was an ice blue crystal, the size of it making the stranger’s head swell painfully.

“Hello?” Lotus mewed, approaching the tom slowly, “My name is Lotus Summers and this is my mate, Angus of the Storm.” Her voice softened when he flinched away, gazing at them with a terrified look in his remaining eye, “Don’t be afraid, we won’t hurt you. What’s your name?”

“S-S-Salem…” he stammered, shaking like a leaf, “I-I’m sorry, I d-d-didn’t know anyone lived here…”

“No need to apologize, Salem,” Angus stepped up to stand beside his mate, his eyes narrowing with pity for him, “You look exhausted, my friend. Our home isn’t too far from here, you’re welcome to rest and regain your strength there.”

“I-I am?” he looked even more shocked at that, his tail tucked between his legs, “I-I don’t know…I couldn’t possibly.”

“Nonsense,” Lotus mewed, moving forward to help support the stranger, “Come, you’ll be well taken care of with us.”

“I’ll have the hunters bring you something to eat,” decision seemingly made, Angus lead the way up the mountain, forcing himself to slow his pace for the strange cat, “And a nest made for you so you can rest. Don’t worry; you’ll be safe here with us.”

The black tom didn’t answer for a while, staring wildly from one to the other as though he wasn’t sure they weren’t going to murder him the first chance they got. “T-Thank you…for your kindness.” Angus simply nodded and padded on.

When they reached the entrance to their mountain palace, he commanded the guards to fetch the stag they’d left further down and set to work preparing every cat for Salem’s arrival. Within the hour the black tom was settled into a nest in the staff’s sleeping area with a full belly for what was likely the first time in a while.

“I will never forget your kindness,” Salem mewed to Angus as he slowly drifted to sleep, “You and your mate…thank you…” Nodding to one of the nurses as she entered, he left the tom to sleep, heading to the entrance of the sleeping area where Flynn was waiting for him.

“Are you sure about this, Angus?” Flynn murmured nervously in his ear as they headed out to the throne room, “He could be dangerous.”

“Well he’s hardly dangerous now,” Angus mewed solemnly, gazing at his best friend, “Besides, no northern cat under my rule would ever dare to turn away a cat in need, regardless of where they come from. How can I command my cats to do one thing and then disobey that rule myself?”

“But what about your kits,” he fussed, “What if he-”

“That’s enough, Flynn,” he frowned, “Salem hasn’t done anything wrong, and I’m certainly not going to throw him out to die based on ‘what ifs’. Blizzard is more than capable of protecting the kits, and there are enough guards in this place to stop one cat alone if he does try anything. I don’t want to hear anything more about it.”

Annoyed, Flynn snapped his jaws shut and stalked off ahead of him. He didn’t like arguing with the tabby, but what else could he do? He wouldn’t abandon a cat in need, and Salem certainly didn’t seem dangerous.

 _Flynn is just overreacting. Lotus trusts him, everything will be fine_.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Lotus twitched her tail with irritation. Where was that she-cat? Blizzard had said she’d be back with herbs for little Malcolm’s cough at least an hour ago. How long could it possibly take?

I guess I’ll have to do this myself, she thought irritably, soothing herself with the idea of patting her eldest daughter’s ears when she found her.

“Momma where are ya goin’?” Montgomery, the largest of her kits squeaked, looking up at her with large eyes, “Can we come?”

“Oh can we?” Jade, the only she-cat of the litter mewed, pushing herself up onto unsteady paws, “Please!”

Her former irritation melted a little. Such strong, adventurous kits, she couldn’t be more proud of them.

“Of course, but make sure you look after Malcolm, he’s still not feeling well,” she mewed softly, twitching her whiskers when all three kits let out squeaks and squeals of excitement, dashing for the entrance to the throne room, “And stay with me, or you’ll stay in your nest until your full grown!” Even easily excitable little Montgomery paused at that, waiting with his smaller siblings for their mother.

“Don’t worry Malcolm, seeing the rest of the palace will make you feel better!” Jade mewed to her brother as their mother passed them. But all her pride in her beautiful kits faded as she stepped out into the throne room.

Bile rose in her throat and she had to work hard to suppress a cry of anguish. The walls were stained with blood everywhere she looked, and scattered around the room…

She recognized a few of the bodies at once. Most of them were palace staff, her friends…and at the back-

“My kits!” she wailed, running forward without thinking, “No, my precious kits!” They were almost unrecognizable their bodies were so badly mangled. Blizzard…Sera…Jackal…gone, all gone…and only a pawful of tail-lengths from where she and her youngest kits had been waiting, how could this have happened and they know nothing of it?! “No…no, no, I’m so sorry, my beautiful kits. Who could’ve done this to you?” She pressed her muzzle into Sera’s soft grey and white fur, wanting nothing more than for this to be a nightmare.

“Momma,” Malcolm’s tiny squeak seemed to echo around the cavern, forcing her out of her trembling grief. She couldn’t afford to fall to pieces…her remaining kits needed her.

“Goodbye my beloveds, I will never forget you,” with one final nuzzle of Sera’s fur, she ran back over to the kittens. They all looked horrified, as though they could never even have imagined a scene so terrible. “Come with me, kittens, and don’t leave my sight.”

They obeyed without even so much as a squeak of protest, keeping themselves pressed close to her legs. She moved them around the walls of the throne room, forcing herself not to look at the destruction again. She had to find Angus, he would know what to do, he’d have a plan.

Her mate came charging into the room from one of the many tunnels, missing several patches of his thick fur. “Lotus!” he sprinted through the devastation without taking his eyes off her. Like a shadow, Salem ran out behind him, his one eye wide with horror. “Thank Arctic you’re alive.” He stopped as he reached them, pressing himself comfortingly against her as he checked on the kits, “We have to run, the palace is under attack.”

“By who?” she hissed, trembling even with his reassuring presence next to her, “Angus…our kits…”

“I know…” pain flooded his leaf green eyes, “I know, I saw, but we have to get out of here before they get us too.” He continued before she could ask him who again, “I don’t know, they’re cats…but not. You can’t touch them, it’s like they’re made of shadows, but they can…they did _this_.”

She stared at him, but Salem spoke before she could demand further explanation, “This way, your Highness’s! The creatures haven’t got this far yet; we should have a clear run to the forest below!” And without another word, the skinny tom ran out of the entrance.

“He’s right; we’ll figure this out later,” Angus mewed, nudging her forward, “Come kits, stay together.” Leaving no room for argument, he charged towards the entrance. She followed him, making sure the kits kept pace. Once they emerged into the harsh white light of the day she saw that Salem had indeed been right. There was no one blocking the route down to the forest, if they ran fast they could get to safety long before these shadow cats could catch up.

But as they rounded the first bend her hopes were dashed. Salem was snarling, hissing and swiping desperately as the cats forced him against the stony mountainside. Now she could seem them, she could see what Angus had meant. They were like no cat she’d ever seen. They’re eyes were ice blue pinpricks in a swirling mass of shadows; every time Salem seemed to hit them, their forms just melted back into their original shape without the cats so much as flinching.

“Run, Lotus,” Angus snarled, turning to her, “Take the kits and run. Flynn is at the southern mountain, go and find him, he’ll help you.”

“N-No,” she cried, “I _can’t_ …I won’t leave you!” _You’ll die!_ She wanted to cry, _how could any cat fight creatures that couldn’t be hit?_

“You must,” he moved close, licking her ear, “Be strong, my summer sun, I will be with you soon.” And without another word, he launched himself into battle, landing on the closest shadow-cat. It dissipated around him, but it made no sound of pain. Lotus didn’t dare watch anymore; she feared she’d never gain the strength to leave if she did.

“Run kits, run!” she cried, guided them around the fighting and ran down the path without a backwards look. It hurt; her heart screamed to turn back and protect her mate, to avenge her kits, but she couldn’t. These kits needed her more.

She was almost halfway down the mountain when she heard an all too familiar screech of pain. She couldn’t help herself. She skidded to a halt, looking back around to find Angus… _oh please be alive_. What she saw was almost worse than anything else she’d seen so far.

Angus was trapped as the edge of the path. The shadow-cats surrounded him from every side, but in front of him, _leading_ the attack…was Salem. No…it couldn’t be, she’d trusted him, he’d been helpless, they’d saved his life!

She was too far away to hear what Angus was saying, but she heard Salem’s cry loud and clear.

“ _Death to the King!_ ”

Then everything slowed down. Salem swiped, and as he did his claws seemed to collect fire somehow. She didn’t have the time or energy to ponder this, for what seemed like both an eternity and a second later his paw struck its target. Angus let out a scream of pain as the fire burned his eyes, stumbling back into the open air.

She couldn’t watch. She had to run. Not to Flynn, the Kingdom was too dangerous now. She and her kits had to run, and run far far away.

She had maybe moments before the traitor started to follow them; she had to capitalize on it. Without a word to her kits, she pushed them towards the mountainside. Unlike Salem, she knew the secrets of the mountain and she would use it against him now. A few tail lengths away was a labyrinth of secret passages, one of which lead to the world outside the Kingdom. She and Angus had hidden in the passages all the time when they were younger, sneaking off for some time alone or for secret hunting missions outside the mountain.

The kits didn’t protest, letting their mother herd them into the cave. As she turned she’d heard an unmistakable snapping sound. It echoed in her head and in her heart went cold. Angus was dead.

Her mate was gone.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Lotus ran. For four days, though it felt like moons, she and her only living kits ran as fast as they could. She had no idea if Salem was following them, she didn’t dare stop to find out. They just had to run.

Slowly the rocky plains of mountains transformed into plains of soft grass. In the distance she could see forests and rivers, but she couldn’t concentrate on any of it. All that mattered was running. Running far away from all that blood and that horrible sound.

Her kits weren’t doing well. She knew that. They were hungry and scared, and most of all they wanted to go home. She couldn’t bear to tell them there was no home left for them now. When they did stop to rest, she barely slept. How could she? She was so sure that if she shut her eyes, when she opened them again, her kits would be gone and then she’d have no one. No. She wouldn’t. She wouldn’t ever risk her kits safety. Even if she had to stay awake for the rest of her life.

As the travelled she could feel a storm brewing over their heads. Lightning crackled ominously in the sky and dark clouds threatened to unleash torrential rain at any moment. But still she wouldn’t stop.

They were deep within a forest when the storm finally broke. She’d past scent markers a while back, but she’d ignored them. What could these cats possibly do to her that Salem wouldn’t?

She had expected the storm to be bad, but never as bad as it turned out to be. Her kits wailed with fear as the rain lashed down and the terrain became impossible to travel in. Even she had to admit defeat. They were more likely to drown in this weather than progress. Surely even Salem would have to stop?

“Wait here,” she had to yell to be heard over the sound of the rain, “We’ll all take shelter in the trees.” Crouching down, she grabbed Malcolm by the scruff of his neck and turned to haul him up the tree closest to her. But the combination of exhaustion, lack of food and the slick mud staining her legs and underbelly made it difficult to climb. It seemed to take ages to reach even the lowest branches and she’d need to make this journey twice more before they could rest.

 _I must do this. I must not fail!_ She forced herself not too panic. Making sure Malcolm was on a large enough branch to hold his weight; she leapt back down for Jade. By then the water was already above her paws. If she didn’t move fast her kits really would drown.

“I won’t be long Monty, stay calm,” she mewed, licking his ears before she grabbed Jade and launched up the tree once more. But the first journey had taken too much out of her. It’d been hard the first time, but now it felt impossible. She made her exhausted muscles comply though, and finally she had two kits safe within the shelter of the tree.

 _Just one more_. She turned to leap back down and what she saw made her blood turn to ice.

He was gone. Montgomery was gone.

She trembled, claws digging in to her branch as she desperately looked around for her missing kit, “Monty! Monty where are you?!” But there was no answer. No sign of him in the fast flowing water. Her kit was gone.

“N-No…my kit…please,” she looked to the dark grey sky, eyes wild and pleading, “ _Please_ …if there is any God listening, I beg of you, please give me back my son. I can’t…I can’t lose him too.”

But nothing happened. No God spoke and the rain continued to fall. What little hope was left inside her died.

Sluggishly, she moved to curl around her last two kits, hardly feeling their trembling, waterlogged bodies as they pressed close to her. It was over. She couldn’t go on. She could only pray as the shadows seemed to close in that death would take her, and her kits, peacefully in their sleep.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Flynn paced restlessly outside Reyna’s quarters. After a week of silence from the Royal Mountain Angus had finally called a meeting to explain what’d been going on. And about damn time too! He’d been trying all week to return home but the entire mountain was crawling with those strange shadow-cats. Just the thought of them made him shudder.

He was so wrapped up in his worry he didn’t hear Reyna’s door open. The old tortishell padded gracefully over to him, touching his shoulder with her tail, “Did you sleep at all last night?”

“I couldn’t,” he didn’t bother trying to lie, not waiting for her to give the order to leave as he walked ahead of the waiting crowd, eager to get to this meeting, “I swear once we’ve found out what’s going on, I’m going to claw that arrogant, empty headed, idiot for making me worry this much.”

“You would never, you big furball,” she purred as she kept pace beside him, clearly making an effort to make herself sound reassuring, “I know you, and I know the first thing you’ll do is run over to him and beg to be friends again, just like you did when you were kits.” With a wave of her tail, all the cats in the southern mountain followed her out.

“But it’s different this time,” he argued, “Angus has never acted like this before; he’s always put the safety and happiness of the Kingdom first. Hiding away and refusing to talk to anyone isn’t his usual way, and if I find out that wretched black mange-pelt had anything to do with it…” he cut off with a low growl.

“Come now, Flynn,” Reyna’s eyes narrowed slightly, “I’ll admit it’s unusual for the King to be so absent, but I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation. I’ve heard cats saying that perhaps it’s a quarantine, maybe there’s a sickness and he wishes to keep us safe.”

The tabby tom wasn’t convinced, “Then why not just say that, why all the secrecy? And what about those shadow things? Where did they come from?”

Reyna opened her mouth to respond, but the arrival of the eastern mountain cats distracted her. “Alayus!” she waved her tail in greeting to the eastern elder and the old tom trotted over, “So good to see you looking well, how are you?”

“I’d be better if our dear King would get his act together,” Alayus sniffed, amber eyes narrowed, “Do you know anything about this, Reyna?”

“Nothing I’m afraid,” she mewed calmly as the two sets of mountain cats started to merge into one group as they walked through the forest towards the Great Lake, “I expect I received the exact same message you did.”

“By carrier skua, how impolite! We’re elders, we deserve far more respect than this,” the old tom seemed more annoyed at the slight against him than at the prospect of something being wrong with the Royal family. Flynn sniffed disdainfully and looked away, ears flat. Elders might lead their respective mountains, but the King held true power over the Kingdom and if he wanted to be impolite to stupid old fleabags like that, Flynn thought he had every right.

“Who’s this?” Alayus turned his glare on Flynn, “Not another one of yours is he?”

“Oh Alayus, your wit is as sharp as always,” how Reyna could be so unbothered by his hostility Flynn would never know, “No he’s not my son, I’m much too old for that now. Though my daughter’s kits will be here any day now. I’ll finally be a grandmother.”

“I should’ve known I’d find you two gossiping,” the third and final elder bounded over to greet them, “Alayus you never change.”

“I was not gossiping!” Alayus spat with annoyance at the silver tabby, “It was this one, she never stops chattering away.” Both Reyna and the silver tabby shared an amused look.

“Not to interrupt,” he mewed, trying to keep his voice level as he address his elders, “But we’re almost there, perhaps it would be a good time to discuss what we came here for?”

“All in good time,” the silver tabby mewed, beckoning Reyna and Alayus to sit beside her when they reached the gathering place at the shore of the lake. “The King will start all that off when he gets here. Frankly I don’t know what all the fuss is about; if his Majesty wishes to have a week of peace and quiet I say we let him.” Cats slowly fanned out behind them, taking their places and chatting to themselves. But there was still no sign of Angus.

“Now Marci, you know as well as I that the King does not take leave from his subjects without significant reason,” Reyna mewed, ignoring the grunt of disdain from Alayus on her other side, “We should all be concerned. Especially with those strangers running around, what do you make of them?”

“Strangers?” Marci tilted her head in confusion, “I haven’t seen any strangers. What do they look like?”

“Like that,” Alayus pointed with his tail to an entire pack of the shadow cats and Flynn heard Marci let out a hiss of shock. In the centre of the pack was- it was _Salem_! Flynn snarled, digging his claws into the ground. If something had happened to Angus-

Salem didn’t pause to address the gathered cats, who’d all fallen silent as he’d approached, he merely leapt up onto one of the lower branches of a nearby tree and settled himself down where they could all see him.

“What is this?” Alayus was the first to break the silence, “Who are you? Where is the King?”

“Ah yes, King Angus of the Storm, where is he indeed,” Salem looked almost bored as he gazed down at the gathered mountain cats, “I’m afraid, my dear friends, your beloved King is dead, as are his kits.” His words were met with howls of outrage so loud Flynn almost didn’t hear the last part. Dead…Angus was dead? No…he couldn’t be…

“Prove it!” Marci screeched, her early dignity forgotten, “I won’t believe a word of that until I see so for myself.”

“She’s right, why should we believe you?” cried another cat, though Flynn couldn’t see who it was, “You’re an outsider, a southerner from the sound of your voice, for all we know you’re lying!” Cats caterwauled in agreement and Salem’s eye narrowed dangerously, his tail curling with delight.

“I was so hoping you’d ask for proof,” he mewed over the noise, “Shade, bring me the Royal family immediately.” Instantly the shadow-cats all darted away as one. _So they’re called Shade, interesting._

From where he was he couldn’t see where the Shade had gone, but he knew when they came back. That’s when the screaming started. After a few moments he could see the heads of the Shade but not what had caused all the fuss.

“Flynn do not look,” Reyna hissed, her eyes filled with horror and grief, “Please look away, you don’t want to see this.” But Flynn shouldered her out of the way, for once not caring about the respect she deserved. He had to see, he had to know-

As soon as he saw it, he wished he could take it back. He turned away, retching. Blizzard, Sera and Jackal were only recognizable by their fur colour their bodies were so mangled, as though each had fought an army alone. Blizzard who’d shown every sign that she’d make a fantastic queen; Sera who’d filled every cat’s heart with laughter; Jackal who had risen above the bad omens to become one of the most intelligent cats in the whole Kingdom…that was all gone now.

But that wasn’t the worst. As he turned back to look down at those horribly familiar leaf green eyes he felt his heart shatter. Someone had skinned him, leaving only a decaying corpse and the stench that rose from him made his eyes water. This cat had practically been his brother and now…

“Who did this?!” Reyna stood up, her tail raised high and challenging, “This is treason!”

“I did,” Salem hadn’t moved the entire time, watching the grieving cats below with some kind of sick amusement, “With the help of my friends of course. And as such…” he finally leapt down from the tree, standing in front of the bodies with his long tail held high, as though meeting Reyna’s challenge, “You will now address me as your King.”

“Never!” Alayus spat.

“I’d sooner feed you to the crows than bow to you!” Marci snarled.

“You have made a mistake in admitting your treason openly, Salem,” Reyna stalked forwards, her eyes glowing with fire, “We outnumber you.”

“Oh, do you now?” Salem purred, looking completely at ease, “Do look again, sweet one; I believe it is you who are outnumbered.” Flynn didn’t need to look around to know what he meant. There had to be more of those Shade cats, the Royal Mountain would never be taken with the few they’d seen already.

“Arctic will never let you rule his lands!” a cat howled from the back, “He’d never allow such vile treason to go unpunished!”

“Oh you think so, do you? You poor things, you’ve been so mislead,” Salem prowled forward, the water of the Great Lake lapping at his paws, “Gods can’t just jump in and murder cats at will – that would cause so much trouble with the world. But you know what,” his eye glinted with malice, “ _I can_. Shade, bring the prisoners to me.”

 _Prisoners?_ Flynn’s heart skipped a beat. In his grief he’d completely forgotten they were short four cats. Looking up, he watched as three of the Shade dragged a lump of white and brown fur across to Salem, along with two tiny bedraggled kittens.

“Lotus!” Marci cried, taking a step forward, “Lotus are you hurt?” Personally Flynn thought she looked a lot more than hurt. The once proud she-cat barely tried to resist as she was dragged through the dust, her eyes were wide, staring at nothing. She looked little more than skin and bone.

_But that’s only two of the kits, what has he done with Montgomery?_

“Now, if you’ll all kindly hold your tongues,” Salem turned away from them to speak to Lotus, “Lotus Summers, look at me dear, yes that’s it. Now you are a very lucky she-cat. You’re not a blood relative of Angus, so I am happy to let you live. Shade, release her.” They obeyed instantly and the battered she-cat tried to scramble to her paws.

“My kits,” she croaked, “What about my kits?”

Salem shock his head with mock anguish, “I’m afraid they have to die, petal. They’re potential heirs, I can’t have them running around freely. No, it’s quite out of the question.”

Flynn expected her to argue, to fight for her kits lives, but the she-cat didn’t even try. She just lowered her head and growled, defeated, “Then take me too. I have no desire to live in a world without them.”

“No!” Flynn spoke for the first time since this began, “Lotus what are you doing?! Get up and fight!” Salem’s eye snapped over to him, fur bristling ever so slightly.

“Fight?” he prowled forward, eye locked on Flynn’s, “You would fight your King?”

“You are **not** my King,” Flynn spat at him, baring his teeth at the other tom approached, “And if she won’t fight then I’d be more than happy to.”

“So courageous! Yes I remember you now, Flynn of the Storm. Angus told me all about you,” the way he moved reminded Flynn of a snake, slithering forward and waiting to strike, “How you were born in the same storm. All the trouble you used to get in to.” Salem’s expression turned to a venomous sneer, “How you padded after him like a love-struck fool.”

Flynn felt like he’d been struck by lightning. No, he’d never said anything…how could anyone know that?! “Ooh you didn’t realize he knew? Aww poor Flynn, of course he knew, even _she_ knew,” the black cat was practically purring now, “But Angus never loved you did he? To him, you were just his best friend, his lowly _peasant_ friend.”

Screeching with rage, Flynn launched himself at the other tom, claws out-stretched. He’d intended to rip the smug look right off his ugly face, but Salem was faster. Darting out of reach, the black tom swiped his claws along Flynn’s shoulder.

Flynn let out a scream of pain. This was like no cut he’d ever felt in his life, it burned with cold and he felt ice seep from the wound across his shoulders. He’d never known a pain like this. Shuddering in agony, he heard Salem given an order and the next thing he knew he was waking up in the healing cave of the southern mountain.

“The kits…Lotus…they’re all dead Flynn,” Reyna told him days later, pressing her muzzle to his flank, “We couldn’t do anything…he drowned them in the Lake. The sun seems to be getting weaker. I think Arctic is gone too.”

And the world blurred out again in a hazy blur of pain.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Reyna barely had time to open her eyes. She convulsed once, then lie still, her blood soaking the floor around his paws.

Salem curled his lip in disgust, “Stupid old fleabag. You should’ve known better than to break the law like that. And just think of how much trouble those silly little kittens are in now.” Turning to the two Shade standing in the corner he snarled, “What are you standing there for, pick this mange-bag up and display her somewhere nice.” The Shade didn’t speak, the just moved forward and dragged the elder away.

He paused before following them. This victory was turning out to be much harder to maintain than he’d first anticipated, how annoying. Why couldn’t these mountain cats just bow and get on with it like everyone else?

Snorting with annoyance, he stood and followed the Shade out into the main cavern.

Of course he knew why. _Montgomery_. He hated that little runt. That little kit was dead, drowned and gone, but try convincing these idiots of that. As long as there was no body (something he’d never be able to retrieve now) they would continue to cling the hope that the kit was alive. How sickening.

Padding through the darkness, Salem unsheathed his claws. Maybe the best way to destroy these rumours would be to check for himself. Yes, go to this flooded valley and look for the kit himself. What a thrilling idea.

That little furball had better pray to the Gods he was dead, because if he found him, he’d make him wish for a fate as kind as death.


End file.
